One

Ares gets the shock of a lifetime...

One

Every man in Central City knew that you never, ever did these two things:

#1: Ogle Carly Hawkins for more than two seconds straight.

And #2? Don’t let her daughter catch you in the act. If you did, then you were as good as dead.

The teenager, who, consequently was named after a mythological god known for his…thirst and bloodshed for war, was the exact replica of her namesake. She was hell-raising trouble on legs, and if she so much as spotted you with your eyes anywhere but on Carly’s face, she’d hire the gravedigger into carving you an early grave.

…in the abandoned cemetery 5 miles from the city no less…

Ares-Sierra Lane Hawkins was a force to reckon with, and the girl was only fifteen years old. She was something of a premature legend in the city, being raised a Cop’s daughter, and was the type of girl that liked to get her hands dirty. She was never shy about the trouble she made, or how she went about fixing it, and she made it a point to let others know that as well.

Everyone, at least, except her next-door neighbor.

The girl wasn’t a stalker, but even she knew there was something oddly peculiar about the man next door. No, it wasn’t an obsession, but merely a healthy dose of curiosity about the male calling himself Leonardo Todd.

At least, it was what she kept telling herself.

Ares had been keeping very close tabs on the man for quite some months now, so she knew his every move like the back of her hand. She could even do it with her eyes glued shut. Spying on a man twice her age was nothing to be ashamed of, though the fifteen year old-who had yet to spawn a good set of b***s-would never breathe a word of her accidental findings to anyone.

Least of all the man himself. She wasn’t yet sure, what he’d do to her if he ever got wind that she’d been…tracking his actions for such an extended period.

She had even created an itinerary that went as follows:

Every morning at 6 a.m.: Mr. Todd staggered into his apartment. The girl had not a clue where he worked, but from the early hour, and the dark, sagging bags drooping from his eyes to his jaw, she’d quickly come the conclusion that his choice of employment was a hard one. There were times, far and few in-between, when the man was usually covered in sweat, and there would be a crimson liquid staining quick to his clothes. Ares was no dummy; she knew good and well what it was. She’d seen it plastered on walls and stained into the pavements enough times to know. It was blood, and the girl was willing to bet her life that it was not Todd’s.

It was someone else’s. But who?

She had quickly come up with a theory that he killed someone, but she couldn’t be sure. The first time he tripped into his apartment, sweaty, bloody, and tired had been a mere coincidence. But twice in two days? That was suspicious, and anything but normal.  

It was the first clue she garnered on the mysterious man, and it was what instantly made him dangerous.

It was also the reason she started to pay this close attention to him.

6:05 a.m. to 8:30 p.m.: Mr. Todd disappeared down the narrow hallway sprouting from the kitchen. The girl knew that it lead to his bedroom. His apartment was designed epically close to hers, the only difference was that he seemed to have the balcony that every hopeful tenant to be had wanted the moment Sr. Albert had croaked and left a vacancy three months prior.

That was when Mr. Todd had come out of nowhere and swept the place up. No one had been able to stand a chance. No one had been able to stop him.

8:35 p.m. to 12 a.m.: There was a prominent knock on his door. The man’s groggy, sleep filled voice would vibrate from his bedroom and into the hall, and he’d demand to know who had the balls to visit him at such an hour. Ares, at first, hadn’t seen anything wrong with that picture, the girl would be quite angry as well if someone dared to disturb her house period, but that wasn’t the strange part.

No, the strange thing was, there was usually no answer. It was almost as if some wicked ghost was playing a horrible, horrible trick on the man. Mr. Todd’s door would slam as he stalked out his bedroom and down the hall and pause as he reached the unpainted door to his abode. His hand strayed to the end table nestled against the wall-the child was never able to catch a good glimpse of what was lying in wait there then suddenly he’d yank his hand away, as if a fierce flame had just scorched him. A few, painstaking seconds ticked by before the man decided to force the door open, only to reveal a busty haired female poised seductively against the doorway. She was always dressed in cheap, flashy clothes, and would ogle the man as if he was a rare piece of prime stake.

Most times, it made the girl gag.

However, Mr. Todd was always nice. He would thaw from his statue like state, close the distance between the woman, and himself, and caress her face. His long, pale fingers would run down their face, and over her crimson painted lips, before leading her into the house…

…And to her doom.

Ares didn’t know it, but she could feel it in her bones. It was intuition, and powerful one. It was the same feeling she got when trouble was about to come her way, it wasn’t something she could dismiss, or hide from. Of the twenty-five females that have entered Mr. Todd’s apartment willingly for the past ninety days, not one of them has ever escaped with her life. The fifteen year old wasn’t sure if there was a hidden entrance in his room that has somehow given these women freedom, or any other explanation behind their disappearance other than her working theory: he murders them.

What other theory was there?

The girl was willing to bet he was a hit man for the mob. He had to be, how else could he kill so many chicks near other innocent, poor people and walk away freely? He had connections, people to keep the spotlight from him while he did his dirty work, and powerful ones. It was the perfect, unstable, unpredictable job for a lonely, unstable man. It suited him quite well.

12:05 a.m. to 6 a.m.: Mr. Todd strutted down his hall in a pristine, tailored suit, and stopped by the kitchen for five measly minutes. He would make a pot of strong, putrid smelling coffee; spend fifteen minutes on his stool downing the entire pot, before promptly locking the door on his way out. Ares never saw him again until it neared six in the morning and, depending on the day of the week, his clothes would be stained with the blood of someone that was once alive. The girl was never able to see his face, but she imagined the strange man to be quite pleased with the result. It just struck her as something he would thoroughly enjoy.

That was why she never bothered him. She didn’t have the gall to. She was always insanely careful to stay out of the mercenary’s way if she ever got wind of him nearby, and thankfully, all her efforts to face the killer had paid off quite handsomely thus far.

“Thank goodness for that. I don’t think I’d be able to keep a poker face ‘round that guy.” She muttered nervously. The fifteen year old was perched on the cool, cheap cream carpet layered on the bedroom floor, and stole a quick peek behind her, immediately zooming in on the door. The faded, chocolate wood was basking in the dim gold lighting coming from the lone bulb hanging precariously from the ceiling by several pieces of bright, pink yarn. Carly, at the time, didn’t have the audacity to go to the store and buy rope-because either she didn’t feel like walking down the street alone, or she had no money in her purse, but she simply rummaged through the dresser draws until she discovered the perfect solution to her problem: yarn. Luckily, Ares didn’t care what the woman did, to be honest the child thought the yarn actually added a tad bit of character to the dull, cheap room-not that anyone beside Carly and her would ever lay eyes on it to judge. That would happen over the girl’s cold, dead body.

It was probably the reason she had no friends. She didn’t want to have anyone over at her place�"teenagers these days would laugh at the sight of her poor, poor, living space.

She didn’t want to live with the embarrassment, or go to prison for murder.

Carly Hawkins wouldn’t like that at all.

The girl watched the light, semi-hypnotized, before shaking her head. She was tempted to flick it off, but refrained. As attractive as it was, having the lone bulb out of commission would get her caught faster than if it stayed alight. Her mother would undoubtedly get suspicious.

No, she left it alone. It was unmoving in the air, and no angry vibrations rocked the ground to its core. Nothing out of the ordinary happened to indicate that Carly was storming down the hallway and on her way to bust the child for her illicit activities.

Good. She had time yet.

Silently, she dropped to the floor and cautiously flipped open the small, flimsy flap nestled at the very bottom of the putrid, yellow wall. The girl had found it-by accident-precisely three months ago, and it was how she had been spying on Mr. Todd.

“Let’s see what the idiot’s up to today.” She said, peering into the tatty fold without hesitation. It was roughly three inches in length and height (yes she checked, double and triple checked), and failing to push her large head through, the girl had to be satisfied with skimming the contents of his apartment with her bright eyes.

The first thing that met her was the lone, white and black checkered recliner pushed to the farthest corner of the room. It sat still next to a three seater-something Mr. Todd had yet to utilize, and the large couch was nestled against the large, foreboding window that gave a clear, concise view of the parking lot outside. Ares only knew this because the same, lone window sat motionless inside her apartment, broken. Carly had to patch the large, jagged hole in the center with bits and pieces of old sheets they no longer used in an effort to shield the result of Ares’s temper tantrum three days prior.

The secret window into the man’s abode sat at the furthermost wall in his apartment hidden partially by the recliner, and didn’t seem to stand out enough for her to be noticed. The girl was determined that, if she ever found a way into his house (not anytime soon, perhaps) she’d have to find another way to…increase her methods of prying on him.

He was too captivating and unusual a subject to let go just yet.

The bright, white rays of Mr. Todd’s expensive lights shone supremely in his living room, but Ares was used to it. Having the hurtful blare prickle her eyes night after night for three long months was enough to make the child immune to the pain, even if she had yet to see them.

The apartment was silent, not a peep or badger of sound rang out. It was so quiet, that the girl’s steady, soft breathing thundered like drums in her ear. She frowned, and stole a quick peek behind her. Everything in the man’s place stood out-the bright lights, the checkered sofa, the shiny counter tops in his kitchen. It all added to the mystery surrounding the older man, it gave his place character, it gave him a persona the child wasn’t sure suited him at all. But as she glanced at her meager living space, the only thing out of the ordinary that remotely stood out was the black, beeping machine from hell stationed atop the cracked, dull dresser. The unflashy, unattractive red numbers read five thirty-far from the time the man should be out of bed.

Crestfallen, she took one last sweep of the man’s place before backing away from the not so secretive flap.

“This sucks,” she said, standing. “I was hoping to see something juicy.”

Discouraged for the moment, yet not swayed completely from spying on the mysterious man, she dusted off and made short work of pushing the creaking bed back against the wall. It would do no good for Carly to stumble upon the child’s well-kept mystery; Ares’s wasn’t sure what she’d do if her mother ever found out…

The lengthy, moss green beads strung from the archway on the adjacent wall rattled noisily, and Carly Hawkins made her grand entrance.

Her skin was as pale as the moon-a contrast to the rich, light brown that dusted Ares’s scarred body-and was currently glistening with water. The older woman turned to her daughter, her long, chestnut hair glued to her body like a second skin, the bones of her hip jutting out proudly. She lifted her arms above her head, giving the child a clear, unobstructed view of her slightly sagging breasts.

Ares squeezed her eyes shut and willed the vision of the woman to go away. Her cheeks started to get hot, and she turned quickly. One would think she’d get used to seeing her naked�"after all, she’d been living with the woman her whole life-but she couldn’t help it. She didn’t like seeing her mother naked. Perhaps it was a child thing. Seeing her mother naked made the woman seem…vulnerable in a way. Weak. And Carly Hawkins was anything but.

“Mom!” Ares shouted, mortified. “What are you doing?” The girl knew her face was as red as a tomato, and she dare not open her eyes, even though she knew the flaky, yellow wall would meet her.

There was a pregnant pause.

“Putting clothes on dufus. What does it look like?” Said Carly softly, though Ares knew the woman well to recognize the laughter laced intricately in her tone. “It’s not my fault you can’t handle seeing your mama naked.”

Ares shivered, disgusted. “Mom, I’m fifteen. I don’t want to see anyone naked, especially you.” It was the truth, and not a lie. Ares dare not get a glimpse of anyone in their birthday suit; the girl didn’t even deign to look at herself when she was bare!

“Too bad.” Carly hummed, her voice sounding closer. “’Cause I like flaunting what my mama gave me!”

The girl felt long, bony arms snaking around her torso, and a pair of pale hands made a quick grab for her reasonably flat chest. She squeaked like a mouse as Carly pulled her flush against her naked body, and the woman started pressing her bare breasts against Ares’s back.

The girl’s eyes popped open and she screamed fearfully. She wrestled out the woman’s hold and dove off the bed, and put as much distance between them as possible. Her eyes were wide in their sockets, and she steadily backed up until the cool wood of the bedroom door kissed her back.

“A…are you trying to scare me for life?” She asked, leaning as far into the door as she could possibly go.

Carly grew silent for a long second, and then burst into a fit of giggles. She fell off the bed, not deigning to reign in her amusement. “You…are so funny!” She said in between giggles, her damp hair soaking the flimsy white sheets. “You get that from your father.” Her laughter faded, and a sad haze clouded about her. “He was shy too…”

Ares looked away quickly, biting her lip. The silence that came at the mention of that man was poisonous.  While her mother was saddened at the mention of him, Ares was slowly starting to burn with anger. She hated that man; wished Carly would never mention him at all. He was better off where he belonged, dead and gone. Far from her, and far from her mother.

…but even in death, he continued to plague them.  He couldn’t leave them alone.

She chanced a glance at her mother, and almost felt bad for having such thoughts. Her heart thumped pitifully in her chest, and she was tempted to offer her mother some form of comfort. She debated on whether or not to go through with it, but Carly made the decision for her. The woman rose slowly from the bed, her lips tilted in a deep frown, and the wrinkles she tried so hard to cover with makeup, sagged freely along her forehead. Her hair was matted to her skin, and her dark, chocolate eyes were swimming with unshed tears. She started to trek toward the dresser, finally deciding to clothe herself when Ares caught sight of it.

The teenager didn’t know how she’d never noticed it before; it was so noticeable, that it was hard to miss. Yet somehow, she had…all her life.

“Mom,” Carly looked at her, her eyes still swimming in sadness, “what’s that on your arm?” Ares pointed to the ink-like drawing embedded just underneath her elbow. She couldn’t clearly see what it was, but from the look of utter horror on Carly’s face, it wasn’t good. Quickly, Carly clasped the elbow, instantly blocking the child’s view of the tattoo, and a heavy frown marred her lips.

“Nothing.” She answered quickly, backing into the dresser. “It’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“It’s a tattoo.” Said Ares, stating the obvious. She watched her mother closely, and took the first of many steps toward the bed. “It’s no big deal.” She stopped by the footrest, and motioned to the woman’s elbow. “Can I see it?”

Her mother turned swiftly, her wet hair swaying behind her. Ares felt a few droplets of water as it splashed onto her clothes, but paid it no mind.

“No.” Stated Carly, her voice soft, yet firm. “Get outside, I need to change.”

The girl scoffed, finding the notion funny. Here she was trying to gain some insightful information, and her mother was trying to dodge all her questions. Nothing unordinary, just a typical Carly-Ares conversation. It was a classic day in Ares’s mundane life…

“You’ve changed with me in here before.”

“I thought you didn’t like to see me naked?” She countered.

Ares ground her teeth. “I don’t, but�"“

“Baby, if you can’t handle seeing me naked, how are you going to handle a man?” Carly teased, switching back to her normal self. A small screeched sounded as the dresser draw was yanked open quickly, but it had nothing on the loud thumping of the child’s heart in her ears. Her eyes widened at that statement, and she started sputtering hotly. “I…I…ahh!” The girl stormed to the door, yanked it open, and slammed it as she made her way out the bedroom, embarrassed tremendously.

It didn’t help that she could hear her mother’s girlish giggles at her reaction and hasty, animated departure.

“I’m not ever going to see a man naked!” Ares screamed at the door, wanting to get the last word in. But Carly’s fitful giggles continued persistently, and, slighted, the girl stormed the small hall and made her way into the shabby apartment she shared with her maternal guardian…if one could even call it that…

Ten-fifteen paces from the bedroom door led her to the kitchen-a small, cramped space that was a disaster zone yesterday evening. There were two counters…three in total if you counted the one that burned to the ground yesterday, and they were all charred and smothered in soot. The once teal, countertop was now sporting a thin, sheen of black, and there was a large space in between them that once belonged to a stove, and their brother. Ares had nothing to say…except that her little cooking spree was a complete disaster.

Nudged comfortably against the counter licking the very corner of the kitchen, was the fridge. It was yellow, and ugly, and far too small for the girl’s liking, but it supported Carly and she, and was at least large enough to hold the six gallons of milk they went through every three days.

There wasn’t anything out of the usual; dull cabinets fell unattractively from the ceiling, further fueling the cheap, uncomfortable feel of the place, and a lone, rusty microwave that-thank the good lord worked, even if it was fifteen years old. Ares had been told it was a gift at her baby shower, thus her mother refused to part with it.

The girl allowed her eyes the single freedom of roaming the small kitchen, and would’ve cringed at the mess it was in, but to think about it any longer was to feel guilty, and Ares was not about to waste time on something that held no value to her at all.

She weaved around the kitchen, and made her way in to the run-down living room. The brown, tattered couch Carly procured from the goodwill store sat in the center of the miniscule space-it was the ugliest thing in the house thus far. White, long strands of fur-perhaps from a large canine, or obscenely hairy feline stuck out from the creases and corners of the couch. Large, jagged holes in the cushioning-showing the once dull, pale sponge material stuffed inside-was now black with muck and dirt, and probably mold too. Soot and burned covered the legs of the loveseat-Carly said it gave it character-Ares proclaims it junk. The couch was junk, nothing more, nothing less, and it was the ugliest piece of junk Carly had fallen in love with. Therefore it stayed, much to the girl’s chagrin.

She crossed the small room and planted her rear firmly on the vinyl-covered ground. There was a puny coffee table squeezed between the couch and the far wall�"and a 32” television nestled atop it. The picture quality was horrible at best-but it worked, for now. A black remote with popping blue buttons sat nonchalantly on the edge of the table, and Ares reached for it, her thumb hot on the power button.

…with no result.

She frowned, and pointed the remote to the black machine again, her finger furiously working the contraption.

“Why isn’t it working?” She said, frustrated. She shook the remote harshly, willing it to work, but no matter how much she tried; it refused to take her side of the story.

Faintly, she heard a creak coming from the hallway, quickly followed by loud footsteps. She shook the remote once more, and was severely tempted to throw it to the nearest wall. She would only be satisfied when the stupid thing broke in millions of pieces; after all, it was good for nothing now.

“Please don’t break it.” Her mother said tiredly, her voice floating from the kitchen. “It’s the only one we have.”

Ares glared at the remote for long, painstaking minutes before letting it slip from her hand. “Oops!” The word slipped from her mouth, and she felt no remorse for doing exactly what she was told not to do. The black contraption thud to the floor, and Ares bit her tongue to keep from snickering as a sharp intake of breath sounded from the kitchen.

“Ares!” Yelled Carly fervently. The child heard a stampede coming her way, and flew from the floor just as her mother stormed to the couch-the girl was smart enough to recognize when her life was in danger.

“I said not to break it!”

Ares shrugged. “It’s a piece of crap.” She swallowed the other insult hot on her tongue and danced around the ugly piece of furniture just as her mother made a quick grab for her, and stopped as her back hit the counter marking off the kitchen.  

Carly stopped, and stationed her hands on her hops. The frown of disapproval on her face said it all, but Ares could care less. The woman started to inch her way from the couch and toward her child, and sensing more danger, Ares did the same. She moved from the counter slowly, and had plans to take off in a mad dash toward the bedroom (where she could lock herself in), when something large and blue caught her unexpectedly.

She staggered as she tried to catch her footing before she fell to the ground, and took notice of the hindrance responsible for her almost capture. It stood two feet from the ground, and stopped mere inches from her hips. It was blue, and dark, and the cloth material keeping its body intact was patchy and tatty. It looked as if it had just rolled in from the junk pile. A rusty, old zipper completed it, and the girl turned to her mother, thoroughly confused.

“What’s with the suitcase?” She asked, pointing to the bulging sack. The tanned girl righted herself, and circled the old bag, her breath hitching in her throat when she saw the smaller, less neglected version of the mother bag sitting directly behind…along with two cream colored backpacks. “What’s…going on?”

The brunette woman inhaled deeply, and licked her lips, not noticing that she had started to fiddle with her fingers. Her gaze traveled everywhere but at her daughter, and Ares narrowed her eyes and folded her arms tightly on her chest. Her mother only got like that when she was incredibly nervous and had to tell her something that was bound to awaken the sleeping, raging beast in the pit of her stomach.

“Mom?”

Carly smiled nervously. “You might want to sit down for this, honey.” She prompted quickly, motioning the girl over.

Ares didn’t move.

“Ares, please.” She begged, and tucked a strand of long, chestnut hair behind her ear. She then wiped her pale hands on the sides of the perky, pink long sleeved blouse and matching pants-her uniform for Marty’s Cleaners-and it suddenly clicked.

“You’re going to work.”

She nodded slowly.

“But it’s Thursday. You don’t work on Thursday’s.”

There was a long, uncomfortable pause between them. She breathed deeply, looking as if she was struggling with herself, before motioning for the girl to sit on the couch again. “Please baby, come sit down.”

Ares didn’t want to, but she decided to humor her mother. The inherent curiosity about what was going on was slowly starting to overrule her first reaction: to get pissed then, and ask questions later. Not to mention, she knew she was involved somehow.

She made her way to the couch slowly, and sat as far from the woman as possible. She didn’t

know if Carly was deeply affected by her blatant choice of seating, because the instant her rear kissed the couch, Carly took a seat too. Her brown eyes found her lap, and she fiddled with her thumbs still. “You…you remember the Alexander Family, don’t you?”

Ares scoffed. “Who doesn’t? Aren’t they one of the richest families in Central?”

“Yes.” Said Carly, turning to the child. “They will be hosting an enormous gala in a week�"“ she fished a hand in her pocket and pulled out a hardened, black envelop with small, golden writing. “And I’ve been selected to work for them.”

Ares thawed instantly. “That’s great mom. So that’s what the suitcases are for!” She said, the excitement bubbling in her voice against her will. “So when do we leave?”

Carly stood slowly. Even though she had just relayed good news to the fifteen year old, she still looked unhappy. “I leave in an hour.” She stated somberly.

Ares stopped cold. “What do you mean you leave in an hour?” She asked suspiciously. She wasn’t yet sure, if she should be worried at the information her mother was throwing her way, or instantly peeved. “You have both our suitcases packed…and my backpacks, clearly I’m going with you.”

But the older woman shook her head. “No, you’re not. I can’t take you with me.”

“Well then if you’re going alone, why are my things packed too?”

Carly was suspiciously silent, and dread started to well in Ares’s stomach. A stone cold feeling inched down her spine slowly, paralyzing her to the spot. Her mother bit her bottom lip and looked apologetically, for what, she didn’t know.

But whatever it was, Ares could already tell that she was going to hate it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

           

Reviews

[Katherine]

This really is great, I really enjoyed this. The plot is very fresh, and unheard of. It's really original, and unique, and although I was a bit confused, I was able to catch on due to your descriptive writing. The first chapter caught my attention and is promising, which I think is the most important feature of a first chapter. The naked mother also had me a bit uncomfortable, and I caught a few small spelling errors that I think were caused from a slip of the keyboard. Otherwise, it was honestly and genuinely something I would buy, great work.

[Ares]

Thank you so much! That's what I was hoping for. I'll admit, I do still have a lot of work a head of me, but I've worked harder on this than anything else so far! It is confusing, I will say, but I hope to make everything clear in the coming chapters! About the naked mother, though, I recalled feeling just as...weirded out by seeing my mother in her birthday suit when I was that age, I also thought it was something that would be spot on with teenagers. And you'd buy it? I'll hold you to that, if I ever get it published! Thank you again! It means a lot.

[Searching4aMuse]

This is great. I will admit that it is a little confusing, but it's only the first chapter. It was very well written and I look forward to seeing where you plan on taking this. The details about Mr. Todd were really good. The part with the naked mother and daughter were a little odd. Overall, it was good and grabbed my attention.

[Ares]

Thank you! I'm glad you liked it!